


One to Kiss

by elliebird



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019) RPF
Genre: First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25941166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliebird/pseuds/elliebird
Summary: An ode to Tyle Blackbun.
Relationships: Tyler Blackburn/Michael Vlamis
Comments: 7
Kudos: 27





	One to Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written and posted in 2019.

A day after Michael arrived in Albuquerque, Tyler Blackburn walked into the conference room for their first table read as a cast. He was wearing a tweed newsboys cap, jeans that showed off his narrow hips and a faded t-shirt. He had a few days’ worth of stubble on his jaw, a delicate chain around his neck and a single silver hoop in his left ear. 

Michael, who considered himself open and maybe a little curious, was attracted to him from the second Tyler shook his hand, gave him a blinding smile and then laughed when Michael said something outrageously flirtatious. 

He was an objectively beautiful dude. He was softer than Trevino and his sculpted marble cheekbones. He had a lush mouth and deep, sexy eyes that constantly caught Michael off guard by how much they showed. 

Michael spent his time with loud, outgoing guys who weren’t afraid of looking like an ass if it got them a laugh. They were crass, outrageous and quite often inappropriate. Jeanine called them his dude bros, and Tyler Blackburn was none of those things. 

Tyler was funny in a a subtle, dry way. He didn’t like to draw attention to himself, appearing shy until you understood that he was more comfortable listening. He liked hats that would have looked idiotic on anyone else but somehow looked effortlessly sexy on him. He wore silver rings and his hair always looked like he’d just gotten out of bed. He smelled like expensive skin care products, a woodsy cologne and occasionally like menthol. His hands were elegant, manicured nails and soft palms like he spent time taking care of his skin. He sang to himself when he thought he was alone. The lockscreen of his phone was a photo of his dog, Dylan. 

After a five month break for the summer, the cast had been in Santa Fe for nearly a month, getting to know one another all over again. 

He and Tyler had spent the last few weeks filming increasingly intense scenes between the two of them. He didn’t know how to account for the chemistry between them and hadn’t since they shot the first kiss between them back in March with most of the cast and crew watching in tears. He was new to this, to being given the responsibility of telling a love story with the history and depth of this one. But the connection between them had been clear since the first take of their first scene together. 

Maybe it was Tyler. He was an open book with those expressive eyes and the ability to show a dozen emotions in the space of a few, wordless seconds. He wasn’t afraid to lay himself bare for the sake of a scene. And the more emotionally complex the scenes became, the more he shared of himself. And the more Michael was unable to find that line between make believe and reality. 

Filming a television show had turned out to be a lot of hurry up and wait. It gave the cast countless hours to get to know one another, killing time on set or location, quickly learning each other’s quirks and ticks. Michael had immediately earned a place as the cast’s little brother, relishing and reveling in the way they teased him and coddled him. 

The weather was dreary, damp and unseasonably cold for late September. Michael found Tyler tucked away in his trailer. For every cast dinner and night out Tyler joined in on, he took an afternoon or evening for himself. Michael considered himself exempt from Tyler’s introversion. 

Michael knocked and let himself in when Tyler replied. 

The inside of the trailer smelled like “mahogany teakwood” or “sundrenched ocean breeze,” like the inside of a bath and body shop. Tyler had made himself a nest of pillows and a candle burned on the windowsill. He was wearing loose cotton pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt that looked soft to the touch. His hair was a mess, like someone had had their hands in it. He looked rumpled and sleepy and sexy. 

The smile Tyler gave him when he saw Michael standing in the doorway was multi-faceted, going from surprised, to pleased to something private and almost sensual in the space of a second. He’d been reading, engrossed with his feet tucked underneath him. 

Michael didn’t have friends like Tyler. Michael’s friends didn’t read volumes of poetry by queer, black poets. They didn’t listen to Golden Hour while doing yoga, they didn’t make their co-workers vegan soup when they were sick and they definitely weren’t adored by every woman on set. 

Now that he was here in Tyler’s little cocoon of privacy, he felt awkward. Not a normal emotion for him. He couldn’t think of a good excuse for why he was here. 

Tyler set his book aside, marking his spot with the little green alien sticker everyone had received at their first table read. “What’s up, Michael?” He gestured for Michael to join him in his pillow fort. 

Michael settled beside him, toeing off his shoes and folding his legs beneath him. “You’re the only one that calls me that,” he said. 

Everyone on set called him Vlamis and had since the first day. Except for Tyler, who said his name like it was something sacred. 

Surprise widened Tyler’s smile and after a moment his eyes softened, lingering on Michael’s face. “You’re also the only one who looks at me like that,” Michael said. 

Tyler’s eyebrows were the most expressive of anyone Michael had ever met. They shot up when he was surprised, pulled apart when he smiled and somehow added to his beauty.

Michael didn’t make a habit of focusing on things like eyebrows. But he also didn’t make a habit of staring at a dude’s mouth and wondering if a guy could taste as sweet as he looked. 

“How do I look at you?” Tyler’s eyes went all squinty when he laughed. 

“Like you think I’m full of shit,” Michael said with a grin, “but kind of like it.” 

Tyler had a vast portfolio of smiles. He had his professional smile, the one that didn’t quite meet his eyes and was all teeth. He had his Trevino smile, which radiated out of him like sunlight. This smile was the one Michael had come to think of as his, soft and amused and fond. 

Tyler unfolded his legs, placed his feet on the floor and leaned forward. “From what I can tell, about 99% of the time, you are full of shit.” 

Michael grinned. He leaned in. “And?” 

Tyler’s smile widened, softening his mouth. God, if Michael’s friends in LA could see him now, an absolute sucker for big brown eyes and a wide, bright smile. And a rugged, stubbled jaw. Jesus. 

“And,” Tyler said like a confession, “I kind of like it.” 

There were four to six years between Michael and the other male actors in the cast. They treated him like a younger brother they weren’t sure they wanted. Michael was still trying to figure out how Tyler treated him. There wasn’t anything brotherly about it. He had a way of looking at Michael, right before filming of a scene started, like he saw him. And as soon as cameras began rolling, the look was gone and Tyler was Alex Manes, looking at him with ten years of history between their characters. It was devastating in a different way. 

Michael nodded. “Good, that’s good,” he said, for lack of any idea of what to do next. He could handle crushing on the women he worked with. They accepted his flirtation and let him know nothing would come from it. Tyler gave as good as he got, where Michael was concerned. 

Michael knew how to flirt. He was comfortable being the guy nobody took seriously because he flirted with everyone. The minute Tyler started responding in kind, Michael had found himself on uneven ground. 

“Michael.” Tyler’s voice was laced with amusement. “What are you doing?” Surprise seemed to light Tyler up, interest and bemusement in his expression. And caution. He put a careful hand on Michael’s chest, palm flat where Michael could swear his pulse had gone into double time. There was no space between them now, no way to hide that Michael had come here with a very specific thing in mind and was trying to bumble his way through it like he was a chubby pre-pubescent kid again. 

Michael had hoped to avoid having to answer that question. He didn’t know the answer. “Getting to know you,” he said. 

“I didn’t realize this was your strategy for getting to know your co-workers.” Tyler was playful, a smile in his voice and his eyes focused on Michael, trying to figure him out. 

“Just you.” He took a breath, tilted his head and kissed the corner of Tyler’s mouth where his lips were parted. 

Tyler’s breath caught. His fingers tightened in Michel’s coat and he leaned into the kiss. 

There was nothing hesitant in the way Tyler kissed him. He parted his lips, giving Michael permission to take it further, to slip his tongue into the plush heat of his mouth. He wound an arm around Michael’s shoulders, tugged him closer and moulded himself to Michael’s chest, an energy that matched Michael’s own. 

They kissed for several long, heated minutes, gradually relaxing into each other. Michael slipped his hand into Tyler’s hair, tugged him closer with an arm around his waist. Tyler unfolded his legs, making a place for Michael between them. 

They kissed until Michael’s lips felt sore, until he was overheated and flushed and could feel Tyler’s pulse racing. 

“How long have you been planning that?” Tyler kissed the corner of Michael’s mouth. He was warm and breathless and when he moved to pull away, Michael caught him and kept him close. 

“Since the beginning,” Michael said.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I'm on [Tumblr](https://elliebirdthings.tumblr.com/).


End file.
